Hematolagnia
by roses-and-honey
Summary: Doctor Opal Williams is tired of being good. For all of her life she has been pushed around- but no more.Opal finds herself faced with a new challenge: An infatuation with The Emerald King, the Joker himself. Having been taken down by Batman, and trapped inside Arkham Asylum, he finds himself puzzled by strange, legendary, emotions that he has never felt before. Love?
1. Acknowledgements

This story is dedicated to all of my fellow Joker fans. I hope I did him justice.

A big thank you to all of my followers and supporters. I wouldn't have been able to do this without you. I would like to personally thank ' Kelly Rainbow' for her wonderful cover art. It is beautiful- and I'm sure everyone else thinks so as well. Thank you Fleet Foxes, Local Natives, The Shins, The Foo Fighters, and Marilyn Manson for all of the late night inspiration.

Thank you Cecy. I couldn't ask for a better sissy.

And then lastly, thank you Grandfather for reading the first three chapters and telling me that it's "pretty great." I'll take your lack of enthusiasm as an inability to express your true excitement.

Alright, now it's time to get naughty.


	2. Prologue

" You know… Nero fiddled while Rome burned."

I had always liked the large windows in my office. It was the first thing I had noticed about the room, actually. Suddenly I no longer liked them- I _loved_ them. The moon that hung high in the sky, full and bright, cast lovely shadows on the green haired man's face. His eyes had never been ordinary, but suddenly they seemed _godly._ Truly… truly he had never looked so heavenly.

Correction: he had never looked so reachable. I was free to love him all I wanted to, no matter how sick or fucked up that was.

It was hard to keep my hands off of him at that moment, but the sounds from just down the hall was enough to keep me from crossing the room and closing the cursed gap between our bodies. The gun shots reminded me of what I had done, and what part I had played in all of this.

" Don't get all shy on me now, kitty! The fun is just beginning." Mr J raised his hands up, motioning around the dark room. I winced, biting my lip as I tried to estimate how many doctors and patients were being killed while the two of us stood conversing, staring into each other's eyes like we were. Whether I was the one holding the gun or not, my hands were suddenly blood stained.

The door behind me creaked open, and I was quick to turn my head, beyond anxious. I could feel my knees shaking, struggling to keep me standing. Mr J hummed behind me, the deep sound rumbling in his chest. He was very obviously content with the exposed chaos that unfolded down the halls. Bullets flew past the door, cries and screams soon echoing the blasts. The man that had entered the room was obviously part of The Joker's group, his face heavily tattooed. " What do I do with this one, boss?" The henchman asked.

Soon the gun was pointed straight at me, aimed right at my head. My blood ran cold then, and I was quick to raise my hands, as if to show my innocence. ( Like that would do any good). I was just as guilty as Mr J was in this situation. _I_ was the one who had bought the machine gun in the first place. I had practically orchestrated this entire mess! I felt light headed as I stared at the gun, my green eyes wild. I had never been a religious person, but suddenly I found myself saying a silent prayer.

 _Please God, if you are really up there, let me into heaven. I know I've been doing a lot of terrible things lately… but I am ultimately a good person… At least I used to be._

I swallowed thickly, the noise seeming to echo around the cement walled room. And then… the gun sounded, the noise making me flinch, my eardrums suddenly pounding. My throat closed, a small strangled sound escaping past my lips. I swiped a shaking, pale hand across my cheek, soon bringing it up to my eyes. The ivory skin was now speckled with crimson. The contrast in color might have, once, been rather beautiful.. If it hadn't smelled so rancid. _Blood._

At first I thought that I was the one that had been shot, the blood my own, but suddenly the henchman that stood in front of me stiffened, his body crumpling to the ground. I noticed it then, the exit wound directly in the middle of his forehead. I whipped my head around then, shaking like an autumn leaf in the wind.

" Fucking disgusting." He spat, closing the distance between the two of us. At first I thought he was talking about me, my heart shattering in the process. Then he looked down at the dead man, spitting on the corpse then.

" Oops." He laughed then, as if he had amused himself. He turned to me then, his blue eyes never losing their intensity.

" No one hurts my kitty... Except for me. Now come here. Come to daddy."


	3. Chapter One

If you would have asked me what I wanted to be when I was younger I would have have told you a veterinarian, or perhaps even a nurse. I had always enjoyed the idea of helping others. Being **needed** was something that I liked.

With age comes knowledge, as well as life experiences that change us. It was around the age of seven that I learned that I had a fear of blood. I had skinned my knee while falling off of a bike. My skin had worn away, blood vessels tearing. The first thing to hit me was the smell. I had always been gifted with a powerful sense of smell, and never before had I smelled anything like blood. It smelled like a penny- but perhaps one that had been sitting outside for a while on a particularly warm summer day. It was awful. The worst thing I had ever smelled. Instead of crying because of the pain I found myself puking all over my neighbor's freshly planted petunias. I quickly learned that in order to be a nurse and a veterinarian, seeing blood on a day to day basis was a definite. My dreams were quickly dashed.

As I grew older, however, I become oddly fascinated with the way people worked. I found myself studying people, watching their every move and basing what their mental ailments were based on their body language. I became cautious of certain people, and friendlier towards others who seemed to both want and need it. I had always been terribly observant of others and their needs. Perhaps that was how I started to live my life the way others wanted rather than being happily myself.

The glow of my computer screen was starting to make my eyes burn, but my eyes continued to scan the documents, my hands moving at an incredible speed as I began to jot down messy notes. Beside me was a fellow psychologist, his own eyes dancing across a bright computer screen. The man was my senior by quite a few years, his soft brown hair greying in a few patches. We weren't good friends, though we had talked a few times earlier- always strictly business though. I had never been a big fan of him, for he seemed too pompous and confident for my tastes.

" You're going downstairs to get coffee for yourself, right? Would you mind getting me a cup too? I'm falling asleep." The male doctor mumbled, looking up from one of his client's files.

I blinked a few times, watching the man closely. It was known among my fellow employees that I wasn't a coffee drinker, and the small mischievous glint in the man's eyes told me he knew that as well. I had barely clocked in, and someone was already pushing me around. My emerald eyes drifted to the cheap plastic clock on the wall. " _Eight thirty four. This is a record."_ , biting the inside of my cheek harshly. " _Say no. Call him out- you two don't get along anyway. You have nothing to lose. You have so many patient files to read this morning… you don't have time to go running errands for co-workers!"_ I tried to tell myself, but despite my own thoughts I merely nodded my head, pushing out of my computer chair and shuffling my tired body out of the door. Arkham was always frigid, so cold you could almost see your breath in the air. The break room was nestled down in the basement, which was just about ten times colder than it was upstairs.

As soon as I started down the stairs the cold hit me like a slap in the face. I sucked in an aggravated breath, though I instantly regretted it, the cold, dry air burning my lungs. " This is what you get for being such a pushover." I hissed to myself, pushing the door open. The break room was empty much to my luck… but so was the coffee pot. " You have got to be kidding me!" I was then forced to fill the filter up once again with coffee, waiting for an additional ten minutes for the stupid liquid to brew.

The rest of my day was just as bad, sucking the life out of me. When I finally closed the front door to my apartment, I felt like a ghost. I was completely hollow, my eyes lidded and lazy. Not only did my head hurt, but so did my feet. I had run errands for everyone, which proved to inconvenience me and my work greatly. It was as if no one took me seriously! Did my co-workers not know that I was a licensed psychologist? I found myself leaning my tired, frail body against the door for support, letting out a deep, aggravated groan. My mother's voice was quick to sound in my mind, bringing me back to life. " _Stay positive. They_ _ **want**_ _to bring you down. Don't let them."_

Her advice, though a memory, still proved to help me greatly. " I'll show those… those _assholes_."

I spend the rest of the night in my lonely apartment, curled up in my warm bed. For a while I humored the thought of turning on the television, but I was quick to place the remote back on my bedside table, letting my mind run wild. At first my thoughts were bright and colorful, musing about whether I should decorate the house over the weekend. Somehow the idea reminded me about how utterly lonely I was. I was twenty-four years old, with no one to come home to. Hell- I didn't even have anyone to call in and check on me. " I should get a dog…" I started, but soon enough my imagination dreamed up a man rather than an animal. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to come home to a loving boyfriend, but my last relationship was too long ago, locked away and purposefully forgotten.

" Dog it is." I mumbled scornfully, turning on my side and flicking off the lamp, the room quickly plummeting into darkness.


	4. Chapter Two

_Today is going to be a better day._ It was easier said than done, but that phrase was honestly the only thing that gave me hope. I was quick to get ready that morning, shrugging on my lab coat before pulling my dark hair up into a messy bun. I hated having my hair up, even for work. If I tilted my head to the side just right, and hardened my eyes, I looked like my mother.

" Today is going to be a good day." I recited it out loud this time before heading out the door. Ever since I was little I had this odd notion that if I gave the things that worried me a name, or recited them out loud, that they no longer had power over me. It rarely ever worked, and yet I still found myself doing it. Today, it would seem, that I was terrified of leaving my warm, comfortable apartment. As empty as it was, I felt much safer here than I did at work. It wasn't even the patients that I was worried about ( and all of them were mentally unstable). It was my co-workers.

 _Agoraphobia: Fear of open, crowded spaces. Fear of the outside world._

" Agoraphobia." I whispered gently as I locked my apartment door behind me, shoving the keys deep into my coat pocket.

With that I made my way into the parking garage, climbing into my familiar car. After college I had saved up for the old car. It was a Chevrolet station-wagon from the sixties that I had appropriately named Margo. I had kept the original bright red paint- even if it was chipping in a few places. I had recently paid a fortune to get the engine ( had to be custom) replaced, so the old gal started up like a dream.

The drive to Arkham Asylum was about thirty minutes every morning, which always gave me enough time to mentally prepare myself. Every day, at work at least, was a struggle for me. I told myself again and again that it was because I had to face monstrous murderers and clinically insane people that could snap at any second every day; but I knew that it was because my co-workers treated me like an idiotic child. At least I had a stable job. I had worked with the same three clients every day for the past year. That was all the stability I needed. That thought alone was enough to calm me down considerably.

" I quit!" The man screamed, his eyes filled with tears as he angrily tugged at his sandy blonde locks. The break room was in shambles as the male started to empty out his locker, angrily throwing his lab coat on the ground. The office director on duty had raced down three flights of stairs, and was panting by the time she had made her way to the scene. All of the doctors and guards watched with wide eyes as the man, very literally, had a mental break down in front of their very eyes.

" What happened, Sam? We can't help you if you don't tell us!" One of the female doctors called out, walking up to him as he continued to pace.

" That man is a monster! You don't know the kinds of things he talks about. Just listening to him is making _me_ go crazy!" He called out.

I flinched along with everyone else in the room. Even the biggest, toughest looking guard looked frightened. We all knew who the poor man was assigned to, and we pitied him immensely. Sam, the psychologist, every day, spent his entire shift working with the infamous gang leader who very literally ran most of Gotham. Hell- He probably ran most of the United States. Even now his henchman ruled in his absence, killing and robbing whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted. No one was safe. The person who I'm talking about is known as The Joker, or Mr J, which is the name he had requested to be referred to by.

The director pushed her way through the gathering crowd, trying her hardest to get as close as possible to the paranoid man.

" What has he done this time? Sam… You are one of our best doctors. You can't leave-" Sam was quick to interrupt the woman.

" He threatened my kids. My wife. I live every day in fear. I'm leaving… today." He was quick to grab his things, and with that he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Even with the forty or so people in the room, it was still ice cold in the break room. Everyone else's body temperatures seemed to drop- even the officers. Now that Sam quit… The Joker needed a new doctor.

" _They don't trust me enough. They won't pick me. They will want someone who is more familiar when it comes to dealing with people like the Joker…. You know… a doctor who knows how to deal with people who have killed hundreds…. Maybe thousands."_ I tried hard to talk myself out of panicking, and eventually the anxiety that was started to build in the pit of my stomach dispersed.

The director looked along the room, visibly biting the inside of her cheek as she did so. She was obviously weighing her options. Her eyes scanned more so along the right side of the room rather than the left. Thankfully I was nestled closest to the door at the left. She hadn't looked in my direction once-

"Opal? Opal Williams… drop your three clients. I think you'd be best for this patient." Her steel grey eyes then landed on me, making my body go rigid. Everyone around me relaxed, sighs of relief echoing around the room.

" _Me? She picked me of all people… This has to prove that I have bad luck. Perhaps I did something awful in my past life. Who did I kill? I'm the second smallest out of everyone who works here. The Joker could snap me like a twig if he wanted to- even through his straight jacket. I'm_ sure _that man could find a way."_ My thoughts soon turned even more negative, making my blood run cold, " _You live alone. What if he gets some of his members to….-"_ I suddenly felt like throwing up.

" Opal? Did you hear me? He was scheduled to start his therapy session about thirty minutes ago. I'll have one of the officers escort you. I'll give your clients to the new guy that starts today." Her steel grey eyes hardened, and in the fluorescent lighting of the break room they looked like liquid silver.

I nodded numbly, letting my feet drag along the cheaply bought carpet, following the guard. I found it no coincidence that the director picked the biggest guard that worked here to escort me. Perhaps they all really were trying to get rid of me.

" Don't act too afraid. You look horrified. He'll find it amusing- trust me. He's all tied up, so it's not like he can hurt you. We're just outside the door, so holler if you feel like you're in any danger." He said, his handcuffs and set of keys jingling at his belt.

Standing next to the guard I felt safe and secure. Suddenly I felt as if no one and nothing could hurt me. I tried to take what he said to heart, telling myself again and again that all I had to do was yell for the guards. They would be in the room, tasers up and pointed at the gang leader in seconds. I managed to mumble a quick 'thank you' before stopping in front of a door. It was huge, and sealed up tighter than any other door I had seen in Arkham. The door itself probably weighed a thousand pounds. One of the guards that stood by the door began to look up and down, as if to size me up. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape in disbelief. He didn't think they would pair him up with a woman- _I_ thought they wouldn't pair him up with a woman.

A small echoing buzz began to sound in the hallway, the door rattling slightly. It was then that the clicking started, making it's way down the length of the metal door. How many locks did this thing have on it? Surely The Joker wasn't this bad. It's not like he could burst the door down anyway- but they were smart to take precautions. " Good luck." One of the guards whispered before opening the door wide.

I felt as though I was walking into a lion's den. My eyes were wide as I scanned the dark room, trying to find the man. My heart was beating out of my chest, and, to comfort myself, I turned my head one last time, my eyes scanning along the guards. _"You're protected."_ The thought was comforting... and so I let them close the door behind me.

" Mr J?" I called out, surprised my own voice was even.


	5. Chapter Three

It felt as though I had walked into a freezer, my breath puffing out from around my lips, hanging in the air for a few seconds before dissipating. Despite the hundreds of offences he had committed… I felt bad for the male. It was ice cold in the room, so surely he was freezing. I could only hope that the thin clothing he was wearing was enough to keep him warm. Surely not, seeing as both my coat and long sleeved shirt was doing nothing to warm my chilled bones.

There was no answer to my previous call, so I decided to try again.

" Mister Joker? I was just made aware that I will be your new psychologist. My name is Doctor Williams." I called a little louder this time.

A few moments later there was a noise on the other side of the room, and suddenly I was reminded of all of the horror films that I have ever watched. I would surely be tackled by the monster, killed in some horribly violent way. My eyes scanned the dark room worriedly, and suddenly I felt as though I was in a race against time. I jogged to the side of the wall, feeling along the cold stone until my fingers brushed against the light switch. I was quick to flip it on, blinking a few times as my eyes adjusted to the light.

I had been right to fear the dark, for merely four feet away from where I stood there was The Joker, his crystal blue eyes wide as he watched me. He seemed to be amused, a wide smile pulling up at the corners of his lips, stretching out his pale cheeks. The sight of it was unsettling, making me press back against the wall. I could feel the cool stone, even through all of my layers of clothing. I wasn't sure, in that moment, if it was the chill of the room or the look on his face that made me shiver, but my body was quivering under his intense gaze. I was quick to remind myself what the guard had said before they unlocked the door. " _You look horrified. He'll find it amusing- trust me."_ By the look on the gang boss's face, I really _was_ amusing him.

" So old Sammie quit, then?" His tone was playful, a faux pout adorning his lips- but his eyes did nothing to match it. They were as harsh and cold as ever. The sound of his voice was what really shocked me, not his eyes. His voice was deep and husky, and the sound was enough to demand attention. I tried to imagine what he sounded like when he yelled, but the thought was far too frightening.

" He resigned, yes." I answered simply, clearing my throat. I hoped that he wouldn't find any pride in that, but hope is never enough, is it?

I could practically see his chest raise through his straight jacket, his eyes softening some as his smile widened, a short chuckle escaping his lips. This specific laugh was quite normal sounding compared to what all the other doctors were used to. Despite the thick walls his constant laughter still echoed down the halls. Even while the Joker was locked up, he still ghosted the halls of the asylum, an invisible phantom.

" I told that bitch I would break him." He said matter of factly, yet another chuckle tumbling past his lips. This time, however, he was not able to control the crazed laughter. It was one thing to be on the opposite side of the hall and hear the laughter, and then to be there in person. The thin baby hairs on my arm stood up on end, and I tried hard not to show how he affected me.

I had dealt with other mentally insane patients before, that was my profession after all; but The Joker scared me far more than any of the others did. Being locked in a small room with the renowned Joker proved to me that I really _hadn't_ heard everything there was to hear, and seen everything there was to see. Before all of this I was sure that nothing would scare me or surprise me. I have been body slammed, drooled on, slapped and punched. I have been thoroughly creeped out on many an occasion- yet here I was, shaking in my boots. I was half tempted to call out to one of the guards, forcing him to stay there with me as we had our first session. I wasn't sure what it was about him that made me feel so unsettled. Perhaps it was the intense, unwavering look in his icy blue eyes. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was completely and utterly _unpredictable_. It was as if he was capable of anything and everything. He had the whole world in the palm of his hand. It was as if I could _feel_ the power radiating off of him, rolling in thick waves across the dark room. I told myself again and again that if you give trust you get trust, but as soon as that thought crossed my mind I could see Sam's horrified face.

" Let's sit down." I said simply, ushering him over to the small metal table at the corner of the room.

As I sat down I let my eyes scan the entirety of the room for a moment. There was barely anything at all, per usual, but this room was a bit colder ( and not just temperature wise). It looked as though there was no one living in here at all. Perhaps he really was a ghost. He had a bed, a toilet, and a sink… but that was it. No family pictures hung on the walls or motivational posters, which was the case for some of my previous patients. It looked like a prison, which wasn't really far off. I turned my eyes back to him, studying him closely. I watched as his shoulders relaxed, though his hands were constantly moving. His pale fingers began to ball themselves into fists, only to relax inside of the jacket, again and again. I started to imagine those fists slamming into someone's skull- I could practically hear the crunching of bones. I sucked in a breath, my hazel eyes going wide for a moment. I was sure I looked like a fish out of water, suddenly gasping for breath.

" I'm just going to ask you a few questions. Nothing big… I promise." The green haired man seemed to hesitate, his silver smile hidden behind pursed lips. He was weighing his options- it was obvious. I would have to get him interested somehow. He wouldn't talk otherwise- that was obvious. So far all I had was a file full of Sam's old notes, and there was nothing personal about the Joker in there. It would seem that Mr Joker's previous doctor had only scratched the surface. I wanted to dig deeper. I wanted to do my job, _I wanted to make The Joker better._ As I stared at him, his face freckled with tattoos, I wasn't really sure if I could do that. I had rehabilitated five patients in the time that I have worked for Arkham asylum- this would be a walk in the park. Well...one could only hope.

" Let's talk about your profession. Tell me what you do for a living." At least I was trying. I really couldn't say the same for Sam. Mr Joker was quick to look up, his eyes as wide as his smile.

" _Got him."_ I thought to myself, practically gleaming with conquest. I reached my hand over, motioning towards the empty metal chair across the table. He looked down at it one last time before gracefully making his way over, sitting down in the chair with a happy sigh.

"Finally. Yes...let's talk about my _profession_ of choice." Mr Joker talked in such a way, that I could almost see his hands moving as he spoke. I was sure that they would be moving, telling a grand story with gestures-... that is if they weren't bound to his chest. He was so dramatic...everything he said made me want to hear more.

I listened to him as he described his day to day life, hanging on his every word. His eyes lit up as he spoke, and even though it was against my better judgement, I found myself enjoying my time with him. Sure, the stories were all terribly gruesome, but in order to stomach them I told myself that they were just that. Stories.

" You're a natural born storyteller, Mr Joker." I complimented, looking down at the notes I had managed to take. He let out a joyous chuckle, his head moving backwards as the laughter shook his shoulders. His constant laughter and the predatory look in his crystal blues were enough to remind me that I wasn't having a conversation with a normal person. That and his tales of guns, gold, and...spilled entrails.

"Alright, now let's talk about your past." I watched his facial features very closely, waiting for a change in demeanor. The smile disappeared, and the laughter died down completely. He looked disinterested, like the topic of his past bored him.

" You want to know about my past?" He was stalling, I could tell. There was something flashing behind his eyes, as if he was gathering up all the information he could. " _He can't remember."_ My hand moved quickly against the paper, writing down my notes furiously.

" Do you remember your name, at least?" There wasn't anything on file. Not a first name, middle name, or last name. He was only known as The Joker, and I was sure that this pleased him.

"It was Jason." My eyes snapped up, meeting his. He smiled happily at me, watching as I wrote this down on the piece of paper as well. So he was really telling me his name? People had been trying to get a hold of his name for years… and suddenly he was just giving it to me! Sure, it was just his first name, but it was better than nothing. I was bound to get a raise for this. Hell- Maybe the Gotham Chronicles would even write a newspaper article about me! I was more than a little eager to jot down my notes, my lips twitching up into a suppressed smile. I was really breaking down walls today. Perhaps I was jogging his memory. Either that or he trusted me-

" Or William. Or Daniel… or perhaps it was even Robert. It could be anything your pretty little head can dream up." My eyebrows furrowed, and I angrily clicked the pen before letting it drop out of my fingers and onto the table all together. He was playing with me.

" Are you teasing me, Mr Joker?" I stressed slowly. Suddenly I felt exasperated, and the trust that I had for him went straight down the drain. Was _anything_ he had told me the truth? Was it all just a lie?

The emerald haired prince leaned over the metal table, his arms locked in place. I couldn't help it, but my eyes widened in shock. This only seemed to please him more, the wide grin returning to his face. With The Joker so close to me, it would seem that I could see just about every pore on his face. Hell- I could feel his warm breath fanning across my cheeks and lips. I could have moved backwards, scooted my chair out a bit, but instead of all of that I stayed, my eyes locked on his face. Whether I liked it or not, The Joker was a part of my life now. He was my patient, and as much as he scared me, I was obligated to help him. It was hard to imagine that this was going to be my everyday life from now on- that is, if The Joker doesn't kill me first.

" Stop looking at me like that." I found myself whispering, my lips moving on their own accord. I was more than a little shocked at what I had said to him, and I was even more shocked with how shaky my voice sounded. I couldn't blame myself for telling him to stop though. How could I not when his eyes were boring into my like they were? It was as though he was undressing me with his clothes- but more than that. This was bigger than skin or lust. It was as though he was staring into my very soul, smirking and enjoying the fear that he inspired inside of me.

" _You're an idiot. Look away, and don't let him see the fear in your eyes."_ I could practically hear the laughter in his tone as he let out a small grunt, leaning back in his chair. I followed my own advice then and looked down at the table, taking a few deep breaths in order to calm myself and regain my previous mindset.

"I like you." He suddenly breathed. Once again I could imagine his hands moving. I could see his long, snow white fingers pressing against the skin of my chin before pushing it up, forcing me to look into his eyes. The thought made my breath shudder once again, then lock up in my throat.

" I think I'm going to keep you for a very long time." He breathed. I looked up just in time to see him tilt his head to the side. His smile stretching so wide that his eyes closed, his silver grill gleaming brightly in the dull fluorescent lighting.

" I'm not yours to keep." I was quick to shoot back, my eyes searching his face wildly. I was so lost in the current situation- I didn't even realize that my time with him had run out.

" You're smarter than this, kitten. You'd be an idiot if you thought that you didn't already belong to me."

I opened my mouth, my eyes wide with shock. I was about to say something, anything to rebuke the "claim" he had put on me, but the door opened. I squinted my eyes as the sudden bright light momentarily blinded me. I hadn't even realized how dark his room was until now. The guard's eyes flickered over the two of us for a moment before moving his arm, gesturing to the hallway.

" Time to go home." The guard looked skeptical, as if waiting for me to collapse or break down. The Joker had obviously gone easy on me, sparing me the details of how he was going to kill me and my family. I couldn't say the same for poor Sam though.

" I'll see you tomorrow, peaches. Sleep well for me, alright?" The green haired man asked, his wide eyes trained on me. He began to chuckle, and that was when I decided it was about time to stand up and leave the room. The hairs on my neck were beginning to stand on end all over again.

As I numbly walked out into the hallway I finally realized that my life was completely ruined. It would never be the same again- and I was sure that I would never get to have a full night's rest again. That would be a luxury.

Was The Joker a dream or a nightmare? I wasn't so sure about that…. And perhaps that was what terrified me.


End file.
